Love The Way You Lie
by Joanne Brandon
Summary: The boys in blue have grown up and now it's their children's turn! Meet Scott's daughter Amy in my one-shot as she gets herself in trouble she can't get out of - based on Rhianna's song. Warning an abusive boyfriend inside! Don't like don't read! R&R


**Love the Way You Lie**

**AN: I hope you enjoy the story! I sadly don't own any recognisable characters so don't sue me! **The wives names are from Criminally Charmed who has written amazing background stories for them - so much I've personally taken them as canon for the next generation so have been mentioned in this story.

**For the ages of the characters and their connections go to my profile which will have the full details – this was inspired by 'Love the way you lie' by Rhianna so last warning there are mentions of abuse and rape, if you don't like don't read!**

**Finally huge thanks goes to my amazing beta xLupinxLoverx who gave me the confidence to write proper fanfictions!**

Amy's POV – Steven's Flat

The evening has been perfect so far. Being the perfect gentleman he was, Steven had taken me to a quaint cafe after my final lesson of the day. Giggling silently to myself as he paid for the bill, he exclaimed that 'his princess' would never have to pick up the tab, no matter how rich my family got. He'd always been like this, even before we got romantically involved; he had his traditions that he stood by.

The butterflies reawakened as we reached the door to his flat – I'd never been home with him, as we normally talked in his car or went back my dorm. This would be the first time we would be totally alone. The nervous excitement of the past few days had grown dramatically, leaving me tingling with anticipation for the night's events – being able to enjoy the other's company without judging eyes or interruptions.

While my mind wandered, we arrived at a narrow green door. I smiled, and looked into his deep, possessive blue eyes. My breathing hitched, leaving me at his mercy. Unlocking the door, he held it open for me to cross the threshold.

"After you my princess," he smiles coyly, obviously aware of my loss of competent speech. Dragging my eyes from his soul I step through, taking my first look at his home.

Well, this isn't what I expected!

Despite my well-off family, I'm not the sort of girl to find love based on possessions and social standing. However, like every other girl would do, I made assumptions based on his behaviour and appearance.

To say the least this portrays a _very_ different side of Steven – he's a slob, an untidy specimen of the human race. Having grown up with ten male cousins I know how messy boys can be, but even the twins keep their room cleaner than this. Despite his normal habits, I expected him to have cleaned the place, especially as we planned this date last week.

White paint peels from the cracked walls. To my left, a door is ajar, revealing a grimy bathroom. The unhinged wardrobe door stands at an angle, creased clothes overflowing in the lower drawers. The biggest attraction, the unmade bed, stands threateningly, with a rusty radiator at its foot, standing underneath a smeared window. The final feature, the overflowing kitchen, screamed to be cleaned, as every inch of the surfaces are covered in filth left behind from decaying leftovers. My stomach clenches, thinking of the reaction Onaha would have if she saw me standing here.

I feel him lean down, and inch closer to me.

"So, what do you think?" he whispered, his silky voice sends shivers through me as I scramble to find an appropriate response.

"It's different, homey," I lie, silently thanking Uncle Gordon for making me practice, so I kept out of trouble. He chuckles at my answer, calming my nervous energy. Slowly he moves down my neck, kissing my exposed skin. He pulls me backwards, and we fall onto the bed; continuing to release our passion.

His hands move around my body as I caress his tousled blonde hair. We move in our own blissful moment, complimenting the other, until his hand snakes under my camisole. I freeze; never before had he pushed me further than kissing. I immediately push him away, backing up to the headboard. Without me underneath him, he collapses face down on the bed. I wait, waiting for the insults to begin, the dumping. But instead of the rebuke a throaty laugh escaped, setting off alarm bells. He crawls up to me, his face understanding.

"I didn't mean to upset you, I thought we were ready. Don't you trust me? I love you," he professes. He gently takes my face and leans in further. Taking the only exit I can, I turn away, yet he continues forward, placing an intoxicating kiss on my cheek.

"Sorry, but I'm not ready for this. I love you, but I want to go back to school, please," I plead, trying to convince him. Rolling over, he sighs, exasperated by my childish request, yet I couldn't bring myself to agree to his wish to appease him. Taking this as my queue I grab my coat, getting ready to leave but he has other ideas.

"Where do you think you're going?" he growls, grabbing my wrist. Yanking my hand away, I jump out of his reach.

"I want to go back to school now!" His predatory smile is diminished by my bravery. I back away as he stands, looming over me with an impressive height of 6ft 3. He forcefully grabs my face, kissing my unresponsive mouth. For the first time I taste alcohol on him, frightening my logical brain as I've never seen him drink. Instinctively I punch him squarely in the jaw, running for the front door. Desperately shaking the handle has no effect on the stubborn door, locking me inside my prison.

Feeling Steven's hand close around my arm panic begins to cloud my judgement.

"Let me go!" I scream with unknown authority, as he yanks me from the exit.

"I thought you loved me, trust me," he leers. As I swing at him once again he moves back, neatly avoiding my hook, anticipating my clumsy attempt to free myself. The momentum sends me flailing forward crashing me to the floor, bruising my knees.

"Don't be like that, darling" he whispers seductively, "we are going to have such a wonderful time." Terrified, I lean backwards. Seconds later I'm punished for my cowardice as he drags me onto the bed by my hair, pain searing through my scalp. He pounces on my shaking form, leaning in for another kiss. Refusing to be his toy, I spit in his face. Wiping his face his eyes flash dangerously at my shocked expression.

"Remember, I gave you a chance. This could have been beautiful, but instead you disgust me," he lectures backing away from my shaking form. "The consequences are on you, princess." Before the fear seeps into my soul, his hand swings at my face, backhanding me into the radiator. Pain throbs in my temples as I slip into unconsciousness.

Slowly I stir, putting the events of the last hour together. The final memories fell into place as the pain in my wrists became apparent. By opening my eyes, I can see the dusty radiator that is currently propping up my bound hands. Struggling to free myself brings Steven's unstable attention to me.

His appearance had drastically changed. Tears streamed down his face as if mourning an unknown death. His trembling form made the petrol can slop noisily, spilling it over the muddy carpet. Suddenly the unknown death comes apparent – it's my death he is mourning.

"I'm so sorry princess, but if I can't have you fully then you don't deserve to give yourself to others," he apologises, terrifying me. I can't believe he is intending to kill me just because I said no. Finished with his monologue, he pours the petrol over the floor and bed.

"Please, don't do this, I love you, you can have me, please," I sob brokenly, as I rack my brains to try and survive this nightmarish situation.

"No!" he shouts. "No, you don't want me. I'm not a monster… I won't rape you…" he continues in softer tones, trailing off as if hurt by my insinuation. As I continue to stare at him in disbelief, he discards the empty can and takes out a lighter.

"I love you Amy," he proclaims, throwing the lighter and fleeing the flat. The door slams shut as the flames burst to life. True fear courses through my body. The inevitability of death becoming a reality with every passing second.

Desperate, I scream for my life. Tugging fruitlessly at the restraints that only cause me more pain as they cut into my bare flesh. Staring at them I see my watch flash – hope! Dad gave it to me years ago so I could always talk to the Island - why hadn't I thought of this earlier? With shaking hands, I activate the distress alarm and call for help.

"Daddy! Daddy, please help! Daddy, I need you!" I cry into my watch, hoping I.R. will come, hoping my family will save me.

Scott's POV – Tracy Island

Despite only having six of the Tracy grandchildren home, the Island is filled with screams of joy as they splash around in the pool. I can't help but laugh as my youngest, Sam, is dunked by his oldest brother Luke.

Luke has grown up immensely since he left school this summer; after completing Thunderbird training he regularly attends missions, making me proud of the man he has become. However, his current state betrays his mature side.

"Dinner's ready!" Onaha calls. Helping my struggling sons out of the pool, we jog to the table, frightened of going hungry. Upon seeing his favourite meal – steak – Luke abandons us to ensure he gets first pick. Sam merely looks up at me, smiling at his brother's antics.

"Don't worry! If he eats it all, I'll just make him wash the birds," I tell my baby. Finally reaching the table, I take my seat next to my wife, Kate, who had been helping Tintin with her three year old twins. Leaning over, I peck her cheek, hoping to deepen the kiss...

"Hey, we're trying to eat here!" Gordon's cheeky comment bursts my bubble. Pulling away, I roll my eyes at his poor timing and wicked sense of humour.

"Shut up Gords, pass the salad!" I retort with the world's worst come back.

"Just saying, wouldn't want to mentally scar the kids like you did poor Alan" he reminds me, grinning at the red blush that crept over mine and Kate's faces. Luke stares at me, still in the dark about what happened at his conception.

After loud banter between the children, the room went silent, except for the movement of bowls, knives and forks. The harmony was broken as the distress alarm rang through the villa.

"ALERT, DISTRESS, ALERT!" it screamed, sending adrenaline throughout my body. We simultaneously jump up from the table, running to the control room. Before we reach our destination, a voice is heard throughout the villa.

"Daddy! Daddy, please help! Daddy, I need you!"

"Amy, no. No! She's safe at school!" I mutter, reeling from the shock that my baby girl needed me – she's supposed to be one of the few family members I don't worry about losing. I feel my legs run automatically into Dad's office, strategizing the best way to reach my daughter.

"She's at a flat two miles from her school. I've hacked the CCTV and the building is on fire. I'm trying to get a stronger feed to get more information on her situation." John's calm voice filters through my focused mind as he speaks over the videophone. Her _situation_? How had she got into this _situation_ in the first place? Looking around my brothers' faces, they mirror my confusion and horror. Luke's face stood out as it screamed the terror racing through his body – would this be the rescue in which that we couldn't save everyone?

"Right, Scott, take One to put the fire out. Virgil, Gordon and Alan go in Two to carry out the main rescue with the platform. Luke, prepare Tracy 1 for take-off. Thunderbirds are go!"

Dad's orders bring me back to my role – I'm the field commander no matter the circumstances, and I need to get it together. I need to reach my Amy; I need to obey. Following my instincts, I prepare One for the longest flight of my life.

Finally, my bird reaches the sky, pushing her faster than ever before, and we soar ahead. Nothing will stop me from reaching my destination. Desperation drips into my consciousness as John's worn face appears on the vidcom.

"Hey, what's your ETA?"

"10.2 minutes. Where are the others?"

"Virg is 3 minutes behind you but is gaining and Luke has taken off with Kate and Sam with him, so if she needs medical treatment she'll have family there without too many questions being asked." I nod. Trust Dad to think of the logistics in protecting our identities, while ensuring his granddaughter doesn't wake up alone.

"Has Amy made any further contact?" I inquire, trying to keep the strain out of my voice, but one look at John and I know I've been unsuccessful. Shaking his head my fried nerves go into overdrive, with all the terrible things that could happen racing through my head.

"I'll keep trying," he promises before signing off, leaving me to my thoughts and fears.

Amy's POV – Steven's Flat

I don't know how long I've been waiting for an answer, but it feels like an eternity has passed since Steven left. Waiting, watching, praying. Waiting to hear my father's voice, saying he'll be here soon. Watching as the flames inch closer to my exposed and bound body. Praying for Superman to swoop in and save me.

Tears fall down my sweaty face. The heat becoming unbearable as the fire consumes the grimy flat. The smoke intoxicating me, filling my head with illusions of home. Squinting, I hope to see the communicator signal flash.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound pulls me from my degrading turmoil. The signal flashing boldly. Shakily, I press the button, opening the channel to my Uncle John's concerned calls.

"Amy! Amy! Can you hear me?"

"Y-yes," I croak, my voice hoarse from screaming.

"Thank God," I hear him whisper. "We're on our way. Are you hurt? Burnt? Concussed? Bleeding?" Hearing his worried voice I sob, overwhelmed by relief – they're coming!

"Amy, angel, have you been hurt?" he repeats.

"Only... on-ly bruises and c-cuts" I manage to spit through my hysteria, "please hurry, the fire is getting closer," I beg.

"Ok angel, we're nearly there, just hold on." His reassurances calm my fears of abandonment.

"Can you move to the side of the window? Can you do that for me Amy?"

"I'm underneath the window, my, my... my hands are tied to the radiator" I admit, so scared of showing my stupidity for naively following Steven tonight. "I'm so s-sorry, I was stupid!"

"Calm down Amy, now listen, what are you tied up with?" His confusing tone has knocked me out of the early stages of a mental breakdown. He wasn't angry, not even disgusted at my appalling behaviour.

"A cloth of some s-ort" I say, stronger, filled with renewed hope; despite the increased difficulty breathing was proving.

"Ok, is there anything you could cover yourself with – a curtain, or a jacket maybe?"

"Um..." I look around, yet I find the bed covers alit. However, I'm still wearing my coat from when I tried to leave, "I have my coat, will that be alright?"

"That'll be perfect. I need you to cover yourself as much as possible, ok?"

"Yeah, ok," I stutter out, before being overcome by harsh coughs. My chest aches as it tries to dispel the smoke lodged in my lungs. Gasping for air, I twist my body around to flip my hood up, shuffling to pull my legs underneath me. A harsh laugh escapes my dry lips, remembering the argument I'd had with Dad over this coat. I guess Dads do know best after all.

"I want Da-ddy," I whimper into my watch.

"He's coming angel, he'll be there any minute. When he gets there, Uncle Virg and Uncle Al will come and get you - ok?"

"Kay."

"Good girl. Can you hear them yet?" he questions. Despite recognising his attempt to calm me, his words still soothed my frightened mind. Listening, I await my family's arrival, the rescuers' entrance. More tears leak down my face as the roar of the engines reach my ears.

Artificial light pours through the window. Two silhouetted figures appear – my angels have come to take me from this Hell. I've suffered for my sins and my father has come to take me to Heaven.

Shards of glass fall as they gain access to the blaze. A cool breeze is welcomed, despite the deafening noise of the engines. The Thunderbirds. They came.

"Amy! Amy!"

Uncle Virgil! Opening my mouth was a bad idea; coughs possessed me once more, reducing me to a spluttering mess. The movement drew his attention as he kneeled in front of me, cutting me loose. This sudden freedom makes me topple forward into his waiting arms. Collecting my limp body, he attaches a harness, transporting us out of this nightmare. The tug on the ropes tug on my heart strings. I'm free. I'm safe. With this realisation, I allow the darkness to engulf me.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

What is that annoying sound? Where am I? Pain shoots through my skull as I try to remember anything that'll help me answer these questions. Feeling a hand tighten around my wrist, I flinch. The night's events crash back into my consciousness. The hit, the ropes, the fire, the pain, the despair… and then the rescue. They promised me Daddy was here – he came for me.

"Daddy?" I shout, with every last ounce of strength… but only a ghostly whisper emerges.

"Angel, I'm here, you're safe now." I smile as he strokes my hair. Leaning into the comfort, I attempt to open my heavy lids. Slowly they respond, only to be assaulted by the bright white of the hospital room. My private room is full with complicated medical machinery, so I pry my eyes from the monstrosities to focus on my assembled family.

Sammie's fast asleep on Mum, looking peaceful yet completely exhausted. Mum, comforting him subconsciously as she holds him. Her other hand is fastened around my wrist, allowing her love to seep into me. Her face haunts me: despite the relieved smile she's now wearing, her body is still tense from the worry I've caused her.

Searching the room further, I spot Lewis, my 13-year-old brother; leaning against a weary Luke. Both look dreadful as they turn to see my guilty face.

"Sleeping beauty awakes then!" Luke jibes. "I bet you have a huge headache, Uncle Virg said you complained about the engines."

"Yeah, are you ok?" Lewis' innocence makes him look even younger, and my guilt is increased at being so foolish and upsetting my family.

A straw is pushed gently past my cracked lips, and I drink greedily as my sore throat becomes apparent. Once my parched throat is satisfied, I stare up at Dad. I've seen his worried expression before. It rears its ugly head every time the stress takes over, whenever a loved one is hurt.

Bursting into tears, I croak out apologises.

"I'm so... so... so-rry. I never meant to... be so much trou-ble-"

"-No." Dad cuts in. "Angel, there is nothing, I repeat nothing, to be sorry for. You can't be blamed for any of this: it is not your fault. I'm just happy you are alive and awake. Go back to sleep, and you'll feel better when you wake up." Listening to his calm loving voice, I slip back to the land of dreams.

The End.

**AN: Please review all opinions will be welcomed but remember you were warned about the content so no flames about that please!**


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